Batman: Termination
by mindmaster123
Summary: Bruce Wayne gave up from being Batman for 5 years after the murder of Jason Todd, leaving Gotham under the protection of Richard Grayson while Bruce funds the improvement of the city. But crime dominates Gotham, with the situation getting on the verge of war after an assassin starts killing crime bosses, forcing Bruce to don the cowl to protect his home. Part of my DCEU Project.


**PROLOGUE: THE MORE THINGS CHANGE...**

Gotham. A city located in the state of New Jersey. Considered by many as the worst place in the United States to live in, but not without reason. As a matter of fact, there are many reasons. Mainly: the absurd crime rate, the incompetence/corruption of the local authorities by said criminal elements and an infrastructure that is sub-par at best due to the neglect of the city's governmental body.

This was a corrupt system that kingpin Carl Grissom was taking advantage of, both willingly and with satisfaction. The old man had been ruling Gotham's underworld for a long time. But alas, these good days are a thing of the past. His days of power are long gone and now he was only in control of the center of Gotham's Uptown.

The old man, as he was called by most, was now relaxing in his penthouse. Drinking from a glass of his favorite brand of Vermouth while listening to the news broadcast in the radio reporting something about that horrible cannibal crocodile stalking the sewers. Naturally, at this time of the night, he would be by himself so he could enjoy some peace and quiet, but right now, he was waiting for his right-hand man to discuss some important matters regarding his business. He didn't have to wait for too long, though, a knock on the door brought Grissom out of his thoughts and back to reality. "Yes?" He asked tiredly.

"It is me, sir." A male voice replied from behind the door.

"Oh, it is you, Morris. Alright, get in..." Grissom yawned a bit as the door was opened, and a man as old as Grissom dressed in a sharp black suit, a matching hat and a big brown leather trench coat. "Did Cobblepot give you the information?"

"It took a bit of haggling from my part, but I got this." Morris put a hand in his coat's pocket and he pulled out some papers and gave it to Grissom. "In three days, at about 21:00 P.M. Falcone will receive a shipment of some drugs and weapons in the docks. It should be easy for us to go there and prepare an ambush..."

"Relatively, yes, it should be easy..." Grissom mumbled in agreement and he continued to read the paper in his hand. "And Oswald didn't specify what kind of weapons and drugs these are?"

"No, sir. And he said that if he had pressed for more, we would have to give him half of the loot to keep his mouth shut around Falcone." Morris explained.

"This is kinda odd, though..." Grissom said, reading the paper. "No… No, he wouldn't be that stupid to try and start a turf war with us..."

Morris chuckled. "Nah, I don't think so, boss. Sure, you have lost your prestige from your glory days but you still have enough firepower to keep Falcone..." Grissom raised his eyes, throwing a glare at Morris that shut him up almost instantly. "Anyway, you have enough firepower to make Falcone and the others think twice before trying anything against you."

"You got that right, boy." Grissom whispered lowly, a light frown showing in his face. "Here's what we'll do. First, we are going to get all of our people in a meeting right now, I don't care what they are doing, this is too important to be discussed later."

"Right away, boss." Morris picked his cellphone, but just as he was about to do the call, the lights were turned down. "What the… You remembered to pay the bills, did you, boss?"

Grissom sighed. "I really could do it without your sass, tonight, Morris. Just sit down and everything will come back to normal..." Grissom was suddenly silenced by an impact that made him fly over the table and crash on the floor. The horrible pain in his left shoulder, the heavy bleeding, were obvious signs that he was in danger. Panting heavily, Grissom gripped the floor with his good arm and started to slowly crawl towards the door. "M-Morris! We have to leave!" Morris remained still on the floor, not reacting to anything that the old man was saying. "Morris-!" Grissom silenced by a bullet piercing the back of his head and coming out of his forehead.

From a building that faced behind Grissom's penthouse, the shooter who just took down Grissom and Morris was already dismantling the M110 SASS rifle he used to commit the deed and placing the pieces inside a bag. He took one last look at the window and scoffed disdainfully. "This one was almost too easy. But money is money."

* * *

Meanwhile, as this was happening, in another part of the Uptown of Gotham City, a Ferrari 812 slows down and parks in front of a restaurant. The driver, a black-haired Caucasian man in his early forties, walked out and gave the valet attendant before making his way inside the restaurant. "Excuse me, I have a reservation for 20:30 PM for me and a friend." He said calmly to the Maîtrie.

Said Maîtrie quickly leafed through the pages of the reservation book he had until he found the one reservation he was looking for. "Oh, here it is, Mr. Wayne. The Commissioner had arrived first. If you may..." The Maître guided Wayne inside the restaurant, towards a table that was facing a window. Sat casually on a chair by the table was a white-haired balding man, probably pushing past his seventies, who was passing time by reading a small pocket version of The Social Contract by Rousseau.

Wayne smiled a bit and approached the man. "James, I'm sorry for being, late, I had some problems to deal with at work."

"Oh, there was no problem, Bruce." The old man replied, closing the book and putting it back in his pocket while the younger man sat down.

Bruce barely sat and a waiter came to ask for their order. "What do you want, James?" Bruce asked.

"A Scotch, please." Gordon replied.

"I'll want a Scotch, too. And a basket of bread, if you don't mind." Bruce said, the waiter took note and quickly walked away. "So, James, how's life been treating you?"

"Nothing to complain about." Gordon said, a small smile appearing in his face. "Barbara got a short break from her college at Bludhaven, so she came here to visit me and Sarah."

"Those are wonderful news. Say a hi to Barbara for me." Bruce said with a joyful smile. "And at work?"

"Concerning, to say the least." Gordon replied and sighed a bit. "You've probably seen the news, Crime Bosses and other big-time criminals are being found dead everywhere. We are not exactly sure of what is going on, but I'm concerned that this could be the start of a gang war." He paused for a moment, looking at Bruce as he assumed a thoughtful expression. "And before you ask, the Joker's still in Arkham, though we are keeping a close eye on him. He's managed to escape unnoticed before, and considering some of the other things he's managed I'm not sure coordinating a gang war from there would be beyond him...though this certainly doesn't have the feel of something he'd do."

"To think that things would get this bad." Bruce said and shook his head a bit. The waiter came back with their bread and the two glasses of Scotch and put them on the table before leaving. "I was sure that Nightwing would manage to keep things under control after Batman left. You must hate me, don't you, James? For giving up so easily..."

"What? No, Bruce, far from it. After what the Joker did to Jason, no one faults you for putting the cowl down." James said, taking a sip from his Scotch. "It happens all the time, I've seen plenty of police officers having to leave after something like that, no one wants to see more than one atrocity in their lifetime."

"True but the Batman wasn't supposed to just be a law enforcer. he was supposed to be a symbol. Of hope for the people and of fear for the criminals. That things would get better." Bruce took his glass and drank a gulp of the Scotch. "But after Jason's murder, I thought that Gotham deserved something better than me to defend it..."

"It is a pity that you cut your ties from Richard… A friendly shoulder to lean on would have helped..." Gordon said lowly.

Bruce looked attentively at the ice cubes in the glass in contemplation. However, his time for deep thinking didn't last as a gun was fired inside the restaurant. Bruce, James and the rest of the startled clients quickly turned to see the source of the commotion, a quartet of men wearing clown masks, much to Bruce's surprise. "The Joker Gang…?"

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, listen up! We are here to gather some… Generous donations that I'm sure you are going to hand over. If not out kindness, at least for your personal safety." Said one of the thugs, a big man wearing a black jacket, as he casually pointed his pistol at a woman, causing her to recoil. The man then turned to the other two thugs. "Chuckles, check the door. Jack, Penny, start collecting the donations." A Clown with a Remington 870 Shotgun walked in back to the entrance while the other two start to go from table to table, coercing the guests into putting their money and other valuables inside two sacks.

One of the two thieves finally arrived at the table Gordon and Wayne was, and he paused for a moment, looking at the two men. "No freaking way… Boss, get a load of this! Commissioner Gordon and Bruce Wayne having a nice romantic date."

The chief of the quartet walked up to the table. Once in front of it, he silently eyed the two friends before chuckling to himself. "If I knew that a simple money collecting would bring you two to me, I would have left more often." He then pulled a chair from an empty table and sat down close to the two men with his chest against the back support of the chair. "Now… What am I going to do to you?"

Bruce tensed up, his right hand twitched for a moment, before remembering that he didn't have his utility belt with him. "Just let us go, and I'll pay whatever you want in exchange of you leaving without harming anyone in here."

The Boss clown nodded softly in response. "That sounds like an interesting proposition. I could agree with that. Or..." He casually waved his hand, pointing the barrel of the gun at Gordon's forehead. "We could ice that cop and then take you in, and squeeze as much money as we wanted." He chuckled slightly as he noticed Gordon and Bruce frowning a bit. "Please, don't give me that long, face. We are just trying to earn our honest living here." He then straightened himself. "You know what? I'm feeling like being generous, I'm not capping this old coot and instead, I'll just take you both in. But you better cooperate or my boys will simply gun down everyone in this damn place..." He was paused by the loud sound of police sirens ringing.

About three police cars and two officers in motorcycles parked outside the restaurant, forming an improvised barricade. A duo of officers came out of the cars guns in hand and stood behind the vehicles. "Jokerz! Come out with your hands up! You are surrounded."

Boss, Jack, and Penny looked outside at the windows. "How did they know about this?!" Boss shouted as he got up, he started to wave his gun around erratically, aiming at the clients. "WHO WARNED THEM?!"

"It was this motherfucker here, Boss!" Chuckles came back to the dining room, dragging a client and then throwing the man to this boss his feet. "Managed to send in a text when I wasn't looking. Do I ice him?"

"What do you think?!" Boss said with a heavy tone of irony. Chuckles only aimed down at the man and pressed the trigger, the shotgun spreading his head across the tapestry in a bloody mess, causing panic to spread to the hostages in a fraction of second. One of the clowns who were looting the clients widened his eyes behind the mask, staring paralyzed in shock at the dead man.

Bruce widened his eyes as he saw that, his heart started to beat faster, his senses getting sharper as the adrenaline ran fast in his bloodstream. "Jim, I'll take their leader. After that, I need you to incapacitate the other three." He whispered to Gordon while reaching out for his glass of scotch. James only recognized that command with a side glance as he reached inside his coat.

"Alright everyone, grab a hostage and make it to the back door of this place!" Boss shouted, as he walked up to a table and violently yanked a young boy from his father's arms, even hitting the man with the butt of the pistol. "If you see something that as much resembles a police uniform, I want you…!" He didn't finish his sentence as a glass was smashed to pieces on his head and he was then grabbed in a fierce rear-naked chokehold that was squeezing his throat. Soon enough, Boss was being used as a shield, being put between his men and the person who attacked him. For the shock of everyone in that restaurant, the man throttling the criminal was no one than the seemingly unassuming and unimpressive Bruce Wayne.

"Son of a bitch!" Chuckles said, aiming the shotgun at Wayne before aiming at the boy that his boss had made hostage earlier. "You better let go of him, rich boy or this shitty brat's death is on you!" Gordon shot six bullets in rapid succession, each hit one of the remaining clowns in a knee and a shoulder, causing them to fall down. Bruce let go of the quartet's leader, only to grab his head and slam it on a table, knocking him out cold.

There was a silence in the room before the room erupted in clapping as celebrating and thanking for the two's heroics. Bruce looked around at the people cheering on him, his lips curled slightly before he smirked slightly. For a short moment, the playboy mask he wore had disappeared and the Dark Knight had reared his ugly head. "I think that we'll have to reschedule, Commissioner."

"Unfortunately." Gordon said, getting up and keeping the pistol aimed at the criminals, ready in case any of them tried something. "After you give your testimony, you can leave, Bruce."

"Anything to help, Jim..." Bruce paused, and he lightly chewed on the inside of his mouth, as he was thinking quietly on these words. "Anything to help." He repeated, speaking in a lower tone so that only he would listen.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And so, it begins, one the projects I've been planning the most, what in itself is an impressive thing, considering how much of my time law college has consumed. Sorry for disappearing like that. Thankfully, I developed a new system that might just give me a bit free time to write… Hopefully. So, the reason behind this being the first of the DC Extended Universe movies I'm going to write is simply because we don't know if the Deathstroke Batman movie is going to happen, so there you have it.


End file.
